


Passive Horrors In Everyday Life (Rewrite)

by GalekhXigisi



Series: Passive Horrors Verse [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alpha Logic | Logan Sanders, Alpha Morality | Patton Sanders, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Deceit Sanders, Bruises, Cat Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Cat Logic | Logan Sanders, Dog Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dog Morality | Patton Sanders, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Marijuana, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Omega Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scenting, Snake Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Trans Male Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, implied/referenced alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Virgil finally gets pulled out of an abusive situation and finally gets to live, even if it's slow progress.





	1. Chapter 1

Patton stands with his back facing his mate, keys jangling half-heartedly as he attempts to shut the iced lock. Winter had come far earlier than anyone wished it to this year, bringing a frosty chill in early September for the first time in years. Typically, it wouldn’t be until late December, but this year was knowingly going to be full of surprises. There had already been so many that Patton and Logan alike stopped paying attention, stopped counting them. Instead, whatever happened simply happened and they went with it, even if Logan wasn’t exactly _ for _ that plan. He preferred facts, figures, and thought out plans, but Roman and Patton had surely changed that about him, relaxing the man after so long. 

Patton senses a sudden change, one so starkly different from how it had been a second before that he stands tall, nervous as can be. Patton can see Logan do the same, the two having their interest piqued at the strong scent that notably meant _ anger. _ It meant ill intent on all levels of the word, sticky and unsettling in their lungs just like a highly humid day. He cringes as he stands at attention, Logans’ ears perked up with muted nerves and obvious curiosity. 

They hear it before they see it. The crunch of leaves and newly fallen snow rings louder than it had any right to, the scent of an angry alpha wafting through their noses as there comes the distinct, “You absolute _ dog.” _

“M’not a dog,” comes back an almost silent whimper, painfully strained on what may be gritted teeth or genuine pain. The chattering of teeth follows and Logan vaguely wonders how long the two that were fighting had been out there for there to be such a clatter. “Still a cat.” 

“Still a _ pussy, _then, aren’t you?” 

Patton moves without a thought as he smells three different things. One is the strong scent of fear, sharp and piercing, obviously projected with the intent of getting a reply. The second is a distress signal that mostly only omegas knew. The ones that weren’t omegas that knew were ones that had grown up in packs of omegas and omegas exclusively. Patton was one of those thin few, his motherly alpha dying just days before he was born. The third scent was one he had only smelled once before and Logan had ended up with a rather large scar on his side that Patton had to stitch up directly afterward to keep him from bleeding out. That had been a rather large series of mistakes and Patton didn’t _ dare _want to repeat that. It was a smell that only meant the intention of murder and murder alone. 

It’s not hard to trace because it’s so close. Wide eyes stare, shocked into submission as he sees an omega on the ground, shivering and cold. Who in the _ fuck _ would let someone wear booty shorts, a tank top, and a half-heartedly thrown around their shoulders jacket in below freezing temperature? He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows that the omega was curled in on their self, wheezing painfully as they await another hit that never came. 

Patton could feel the hackles on his neck raise, an angry growl leaving him. The noise to follow is a growl like hiss radiating from Logan, who stands beside him with his claws out, beyond just _ ready _ to defend the omega. Sure, they had never met before, but it wasn’t going to stop him from protecting his lover and this omega that had clearly taken one too many hits over their time. 

The alpha glare, teeth bared and ready for a fight within an instant. Despite that, the omega seems to stands, head folding underneath Pattons’ neck and pulling Logan close. He was _ protecting _ them, despite the bloodied cheek and obvious quiver, _ weak. _ They looked near ready to pass out as was. 

“You are a cat,” the alpha barks, “fucking everything you see. You fuck them too?” 

“You know I didn’t,” they bite, though it’s weak and strained through tears. 

“You’re a whore, of _ course, _ you did.” He tosses something over that the omega instinctively catches as if they had been trained to do it that it had _ become _ an instant. “Here’s your phone. Have fun with your new alphas, _ slut.” _

They stare as he storms off, angry as can be as they stare at their phone, unsure of what to do. However, Patton leans down, worry clear as they stay still, peering at him with wet eyes. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?” He forces himself to calm, forces down the million different things he could do to that alpha, could _ say to him. _ Instead, he focuses on the trembling omega. Logan, as it appears, is doing the same. 

“M’okay,” they whimper out. 

Pattons’ expression softens as he hears it. Genuine emotions filter through, a million different ones and most of them being a worry-sort of emotions. “It’s okay to not be okay, kiddo.” 

They don’t respond, staring at the ground with a neutral expression, one far too spaced out to be good, too unfocused and fuzzy. They just give their self a minute before muttering a million different thank yous. 


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil has to take a couple of moments to ground himself, nails digging deep into the snow and phone discarded for the moment being. It was pointless to have it, really, considering that there were only a few numbers on it. He had his own phone plan, one separate from  _ His. _ He does manage to get through introductions with the two. 

The taller alpha was Logan, standing proud with every sense of the word. The dark black clothes added a mysterious elegance to them, as well as the muted scent of old books and dirt that was distinctly  _ his own. _ Virgil liked the comfort it gave off, relaxing somewhat. 

The shorter was Patton. He was bubbly, smiling happily. It reminded Virgil of  _ Bubbles _ from  _ The Powerpuff Girls. _ He wasn't about to tell them that, though. The blonde was just as comforting, smelling like oven-baked cookies and a general sweet scent that Virgil couldn't place, albeit something homey that reminded him of somewhere  _ safe. _

Patton looks at him with a level of care that Virgil had never seen, calmly collected and carefully placed. It's not manipulative like Virgil had seen before. It was  _ genuine. _ He softly asks, "Do you have anywhere to go, kiddo?" 

The feline can feel his face twist into a frown. His stomach drops as his gaze goes from Pattons' hair to his hands. The chipped fingernail polish was almost gone now, nothing more than light splatters of color over the natural black. It was a claim that smelled like  _ him. _ He was silently thankful for it leaving him. 

_ Did _ Virgil have somewhere to go?  _ Anywhere? _ He attempts to wrack his brain for  _ anything, _ for  _ anyone. _ When was his last friendship outside of  _ Him? _ When was the last time he had had a full conversation that wasn't littered with a million different lies? Whose scent had he smelled last that didn't put him on edge? 

He shakes his head, whimpering the reply of, "No." it was solid, indisputable, albeit weak and hanging. He couldn't accept his own answer, though he knew it to be true. Saying it out loud meant it was  _ real. _

The two loving alphas give a glance at each other. Virgil forces his attention up at the two. They seemingly silently communicate with each other. Logan has a gently raised brow, a minuscule thing that Virgil only catches after years of forcing himself to learn what each facial expression meant. Patton was far more expressing with his emotions, almost as if purposefully exaggerating it so that Logan could recognize. Virgil could see the unsaid  _ This is a bad idea _ on Logans' face, both brows slightly raised and mouth somewhat slack. Even his eyes were open wider than average to express himself. He dreads the next words that would knowingly follow. 

Patton, once again, provides the line. "You can come with us if you'd like." 

And Virgil could only stare back at Patton, his mouth partially open in what might be disbelief. It probably  _ was  _ disbelief, though Virgil wasn't really sure with the thousands of thoughts that narrowed in on him within a millisecond. The  _ what-ifs  _ all hit him like a freight train. His reaction was dulled, though. It was muted by the million different fears that settled in his mind, seeds growing roots, planting and making their self places, renting out homes that wouldn't be vacant for a while. His nerves all ache as he tries to find any sort of ill intent on the two currently fretting over him. 

His mind pauses. 

_ Fretting over him?  _

When was the last time someone had done that? When was the last time someone had looked at him with such soft expressions, so ready to give him the world without hesitation? When was the last time someone was purposefully putting out their scent to comfort the omega the way they were instead of driving him to fear? 

_ He couldn't remember.  _

"I won't be a problem?" 

They probably had a pack. Sure, alphas didn't normally bond together, typically one watching over a pack, so they certainly weren't just them. That's not how things were supposed to be, were they? Virgil wasn't caught up on everything, laws, politics, and whatever else. His parents were both alphas and that went down on flames. He had seen a million different flaming relationships in his time, certainly, these two had some form of balance to keep that from happening? 

Patton shakes his head, kindly replying, "Of course not." 

Were they seeking out an omega to balance that? The last alpha to be with  _ Him _ and Virgil had mucked things up far worse than they had already been to the point that they fought over who truly got Virgil. Obviously,  _ He _ won, but Virgil didn't like the situation any less. If they had a pack, had a beta or omega already, they could certainly kill Virgil on sight. It was legal. He could be listed as a harm to that balance, throwing everything off. His death would be justified and completely fine. 

He would die if he stayed here, too. It would be slow and cruel, chased by the cold weather. Would a quick, virtually painless  _ (compared to this) _ death really be all that bad? They would go for the jugular and bite until he stopped squirming. It would be much quicker than waiting for the ice to overtake his veins and slow his heart. He couldn't remember what would come first, hypothermia or frostbite. He was never sure after the last time he had sat out in the cold for hours. He was pretty sure hypothermia, though it was a sickness. It would creep up on him and sap the warmth from his bones until he was cold and nothing more than a shivering mass. There would come the few minutes of hysteria where he would seek his clothes away from his body, far too  _ "hot,"  _ and would finally pass. Frostbite wasn't as forgiving, though. It took longer and crept up with more pain. Virgil knew he was rather lucky to have all his fingers and toes still. 

He stopped really keeping track of it. He'd been locked out of his home enough times that it was just something that seemingly happened. There was no wonder why he was always sick. If anything, it was worrisome that he wasn't now, practically the best he had been all year. 

He wonders if he could contact his brother. However, that thought is stopped dead in its tracks when he remembers his brothers' text along the lines of,  _ yeah, we're moving out of state. _ They had been interrupted mid-conversation, so Virgil never exactly got to find out where or why. Instead, he had just seen the last message of something along the lines of that, discarded through so many blocked numbers and filtered spam. Virgil regrets never getting to finish that conversation, though he didn't get to finish so many that it wasn't exactly something new for him. His stomach clenches and he feels the tears coat his eyes. 

"Okay," Virgil whimpers. There wasn't another choice. Not a singular one. 

Virgil had exhausted his use of every possible connection he had already. He had used his own scent in a desperate plea for help. He had used it so many times before, but only this one time had it aided in his rescue. All it ever did was make  _ Him _ even angrier than he already was, the punishment suddenly more severe than it had been, to begin with. The scent that was now presented back was one that reeked to comfort him. It was so much kinder than any other Virgil had smelled before. It sought out to comfort those distressed. 

Logan gives a gentle smile, pulling off his coat to reveal a long-sleeved dress shirt beneath it, one that was definitely warm. He presents the coat over Virgil, not yet letting it fall to him. It's a silent request for permission. Virgil doesn't trust his voice, though, not in the least. Instead, he gives a slow nod, one that's met with patience and deliberate exaggeration to give Virgil enough time to take back his approval. He doesn't, though, comforted by the sudden weight of the heavy coat. Virgil had no idea what fabric it was to be such a comfort, but damn was it nice. It was warm and would definitely hold in the heat far better than Virgils' tank top or currently discarded hoodie. He didn't even have the energy to fight Logan on accepting it, anyway, so he lets it be there, lets it fall and become comforting to his cold body.

It would typically be inappropriate as all hell for Lovan to even  _ attempt _ such a gesture, especially after moments of knowing each other. It was the equivalent of a marriage proposal, his coat covered in his scent and surrounding Virgil, overtaking his own scent, drowning it out. It would be rather invasive and rude under any other circumstances, but Virgil forces the swirling pit in his chest to force it into acceptance that it was nothing more than platonic. 

It was still inappropriate, they all know, especially by the blush on their cheeks, but they accept it easily. Sure, it was presumptuous and all, but none of them really  _ do _ mind. Virgil could remember making out with  _ Him _ just hours after they had even known each other, like this was even going to be much different, especially after  _ this _ action. 

Logan subtly frowns at the expression Virgil wears. His eyes are focused wet with clear tears. His brows were slightly furrowed and lip jutted in a gentle pout. He can feel the sadness, the subtle change in his new nonexistent scent. It was an expression that came just before sobs, a look that he had seen on all his lovers before and they on him. 

Logan doesn't focus on it. Instead, he offers his hand out, a silent offer to help the taller omega up. The omega stares for a moment, stars in his eyes before he accepts it, fingers lacing. A few tears fall and not to subtly get wiped away. His cheeks were painted a bright pink, though if it were spurred on by the snow or the action was for only them to know and them alone. Virgil couldn't name the last time he had seen such a soft expression, had seen any expression even  _ near it. _ They were two  _ fucking strangers _ and they were already kinder than almost everyone in Virgils' entire life. He was thriving at seeing it, thriving at the thought that things might be better. He can't stop the gentle quirk of his lips. 

Patton smiles widely, running a hand through his curls as he starts walking backward, initiating a conversation about the most recent episode of a show Virgil hadn't exactly ever heard of. He still tried to follow it the best he could, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original document was 613 words when I started writing it but I rewrote it so now it's roughly 1,800 words. Hope y'all like it!


	3. Chapter 3

Deceit stood up from the couch, brows raising as he glances at Roman, who stands at the door, going stir crazy, even pacing in front of it as if it were ready to attack him. The beta stares at his lover, beyond just  _ confused _ at the actions. He had seen Romans' reactions to a lot of things, sure, but Logan and Patton being late home wasn't exactly something  _ new. _ Patton got distracted and so did Logan. In fact, it would be far more worrisome if they came back home just after work. The five-minute walk was distraction-filled and both alphas liked it much more than they liked to let the others know. 

However, he suddenly smells it, eyes dilating as he stalks closer, confused. The sharp scent of an alpha greets him, one that doesn't exactly smell the most pleasant. It makes all too much sense why Roman was pacing in front of the door, teeth grit and bared at the being between them and the door. The omega glares angrily at it. It doesn't take much for Deceit to know that Roman wants out, but the two knew better than to go instantly attacking whoever the alphas brought home. They weren't fucking feral, after all.  _ Anymore. _

Deceit can't help but be jealous of the advantages each species gets. He doesn't have very many. The reptiles didn't get much, unfortunately, just easily able to register the temperature of everything. It really didn't help out  _ that much _ until someone was sick or wanted to know how hot or cold something was. They did get a rather lovely resistance to heat, though, which Deceit was actually thankful for. Summers were strikingly hot, though this year, not so much. 

His senses aren't as keen as the canine omega, not that his we're exactly the best. Canine alphas could smell sickness a mile away, which is what had driven Patton to be a doctor. He could diagnose someone after only looking at them for a few moments. He was so precise with everything that Deceit could remember the omega that had praised him as a miracle worker, not that Deceit could say he  _ wasn't. _ He had been raised with omegas, which gave him an even bigger advantage than most. 

Roman, while being just an omega, didn't have as well of a sense of smell as Patton did, no, but he was far better than Deceits' own. He could smell scents that Deceit couldn't. In fact, the beta still lived in fear of the time Roman had walked in his room without context and declared, "Oh, I smell a quarter," before going all the way to the bottom of his dirty clothes hamper and pulling out a singular quarter before walking back out, not giving the other another singular sentence. That was, by far, the oddest experience Deceit had had with the omega. 

Felines were so starkly different. Deceit had only known one feline omega his entire life. Felines were somewhat rare compared to everything else. So often, omegas didn't want to breed. They were strong and independent, not needing an alpha to stand up for them. Alphas often preferred an omega that depended on them and them alone, not ones that sought out jobs and didn't actually  _ need _ them, not really want, either. Their senses were so keen, so  _ precise _ that it was a good thing that they were rare. They were precise and deadly, smart as can be and often blunt. They were a force to be reckoned with. They could protect and attack. The instant they found their pack that they truly wanted to stay with, they would kill for the others within an instant. 

Alphas and betas were similar, sort of. They weren't as keen and they senses were rather dull when compared to the omegas' own, but they were a bit stronger on average. They weren't as accurate with their movements and could often be compared to as sloppy. Deceit had seen an omega. They were lithe and swift, easily taking over their opponent with a level of skill that honestly  _ scared  _ the beta, but he'd never dare tell. They knew, the entire room had gone silent then, staring in mixed horror and amazement. 

The door opens in a swift movement, the words of Patton going forgotten.  _ "This really was not thought out,"  _ was nothing more than a thought lost in the wind over a fight with Sister Time. Logan stood to the other side, revealing someone in the middle. 

They're taller than the other two, seemingly thicker than both of them, but still built with muscle and precision, maybe built for speed and strength. Their white hair was messily coiled, something natural that Deceit could only compare to Patton or Logans' natural hair. They were so incredibly  _ pale, _ reminding Deceit of a face long since lost in his memory. He'd recover them one day, sure, but today was not that day. They're held beneath one of Logans' coats, but it can't cover their scent, not with the showing clothes beneath and the jacket tied around their waist. The jacket smells different, though, but Deceit ignores it to move over to inspect the other. 

They smell sharply like cheap soaps found in sleazy motels, sex, and whatever sleazy join they had just been out of. There's the sharp afterthought of marijuana that makes Deceit grimace, beyond just  _ disgusted. _ He pities the alpha with such an appalling scent. He tries to ignore the smell of alcohol and everything he thought he would never smell again suddenly  _ there. _

Roman sneers, his own disgust clear as he turns to the two alphas by the door, supplying his own comment of, "This alpha doesn't smell very nice." Logan looks like he wants to say something, but stops at the smallest crease of a brow from the alpha currently being inspected. He instantly stops. 

Deceit silently agrees, though because what a nasty fucking smell. It was absolutely  _ appalling, _ honestly. He gives a sharp nod and gentle glare at the newer addition to their party. 

Despite the accusing tone and clear anger, the tallest looks dreadfully  _ calm, _ looking down. Their eyes focus on a rock in the snow, shining black in the soft light of the home. Their eyes themselves were bright, bright as could be, but  _ lifeless _ at the same time. They twinkled with unshed tears still collecting, blinked away. They looked as if all the life in them had been sucked out over so long, bowled and scooped of its essence long ago. It was absolutely  _ pitiful.  _

The being was on autopilot, something painfully clear, relying on instincts. They had no reaction to the insults outside of the collecting tears and a gentle bite to their lip that was almost unnoticeable if someone didn't know what to look for. Deceit, unfortunately, did. His own brows furrow. 

What had they been through for such a reaction? He hates the recognition he finds in the other, both physically and mentally. Physically, it was that face lost so long who. Mentally, he sees  _ himself, _ the deathly being that went days without food at a time and took enough beatings that, if not for his literally thick skin, would have killed him after only the first few times. He had survived, though, and silently hopes they will, too, even if it's not by the group of mated strays. 

Roman seems to hit the same realization, the same things he had trained himself to notice after so many years of loving the Deceit with his entire being. His own brows are practically stitched together with worry, a tentative look passed to Deceit, a silent  _ it's okay _ without having to say it. The reassurance doesn't go unnoticed, though he doesn't give a reply back. 

Deceits' eyes take over their gently shivering form. Well, he thinks that maybe  _ shivering  _ isn't the right word when he catches a look at their nails. They're black, not solid because of the chipped nail polish. He doesn't know what's in the nail polish, but it doesn't exactly look the prettiest, a bright orange that he doesn't think the purple-clad alpha would actually wear. It didn't match their outfit in the least, either, while the colored clothes do match with the coat around their waist. 

Worry eats at his stomach as he glances at their nails, inspecting them closer. Their nails extend before retracting, an action repeated as they force air into their lungs. It's an action he had seen Logan do it before, such meticulous precision and will to it, forcing himself to calm when the anxiety became far too pressing and he became stunted and sick, reactions limited to nothing more than what he needs them to be. 

This stranger is so careful, gentle and aware, making sure not to grab at the coat that goes far over their wrists, giant on them despite their own size being larger than Logans', even buffer than the feline alpha. Logan always wore jackets that swamped his figure, making them absolute  _ gigantic  _ on his mates. Despite that, the newest addition deliberate, still taking care of everything, hyper-aware in a way that simply doesn't strike Deceit as an alpha, no offense to his lovely mate. Logan was typically reckless when panicked, but it was like this other simply  _ couldn't afford to be.  _

He gently presses his index finger and thumb to the others' clothed wrist, keeping his touch as gentle as he can. Despite the feather-light touch, the alpha  _ tenses, _ so much so that Deceit can see the sharp inhale, can see the look in their eyes that  _ screams _ that they're hurting, both physically  _ and  _ mentally. They seem to follow the touch without needing to be addressed, focused on the ground, intent as can be while tears fall, head ducked more. Their sobs are silent, despite their body visibly racking at them. It's  _ pitiful. _

As soon as their arm is up, Deceit could  _ see _ the bruises and burns, something that would go unnoticed by the two alphas, nothing more than a minor detail. Despite that, Deceit  _ knew _ what rope burns, newly cleaned festering wounds, and delayed aches from general shock looked like. They were half-heartedly bandaged, stinking of that cheap soap and contaminated gauze that should  _ never _ touch a wound. Blisters sat around them, as well as bruises that had clear makeup covering them, the shade darker than their actual skin tone but not noticeable enough to pass as anything other than simple patches of a mucked up tan. 

He can feel the worried gaze of his mates on his back, a hand cupping over his mouth as his own tears burn at his eyes. But, just as suddenly as he wants to cry, he smells  _ something. _ It's nothing more than a  _ hint, _ but it's enough to catch Deceits' attention. It makes him  _ break, _ realization setting in so deeply that he brings his own hand up to wipe his eyes. 

"You're not an alpha," he declared, not in the least bit surprised that Roman hadn't caught the scent himself. It was nothing more than a faded longer, even  _ he _ barely caught the scent of an omega freshly out of their heat. It was a curse for them to even be out. They should be in bed, resting, recuperating from the knowing strain their heat put on them. He had seen Roman crash after his own multiple times, passed out and sore as could be. The subdued scent makes too much sense. 

They slowly shake their head, an agreeing  _ no _ leaving them as tears plop beneath them, freezing over almost instantly as they fall. They sniffle, eyes shut tightly. "No. I'm an omega."

Roman raises a disbelieving brow, beyond just  _ confused _ as to why the other had kept silent about it. He quickly asks, "Then why didn't you correct me when I called you an alpha?"

Their claws extend, sheathing up as they force in a shaky breath, supplying a soft reply. "It was not my place to speak. You weren't addressing me directly or asking for my input on it." 

"You're allowed to talk. We won't hurt you for it." 

The expression they give in return  _ aches. _ It was a genuine surprise for the omega, tear-filled eyes looking back, mouth open and white brows raised. The confusion and surprise makes all four of the mates absolutely  _ ache. _ It's an ache none of them had felt in years. They thought that they'd never have to feel it again and yet…

The wary gaze of his lovers hurts, too. They silently give a million questions and a million answers to him without even trying. They give up their rights to make a decision, passing it to Deceit without hesitation, passing their jurisdiction to  _ Deceit. _ More tears well in his eyes, not yet shed. He knew they would, though. They always did. He was well past forcing down cries from his past trauma and aches. 

He sharpens at the next words he hears from the omega in front of him. 

They softly mumble, "Please… if you're going to kill me or… or send me off…" Their voice keeps trailing off, forcing down sobs  _ actively,  _ keeping themselves from stuttering in a mannerism he had only seen in the  _ worst _ cases of abuse, ones that went on since they were  _ young. _ "Just do it quickly. Neither of you two have on shoes. You'll both certainly become sick after this. You don't deserve that for my mistakes." 

The tears  _ do _ fall after that. They brew and stir, falling quickly, burning Deceits' freezing face. He was far too focused on the omega to even consider his own health, _ and yet… _

He couldn't form a proper response to that. Instead of giving any sort of verbal response, he leans forward, pressing their cheeks together. It's unorthodox and actually an embarrassing act that he really  _ doesn't  _ think he should do, but he doesn't trust his voice not to crack and shatter beneath oncoming sobs. His movements are full of gentle care, scenting on the omega, who only seems to cry in response, leaning against the touch. 

The omega  _ cared  _ about Deceit,  _ genuinely so. _ There was no hint of a singular lie, just such a genuine worry for their health. They were nothing more than a  _ stranger _ and wanted the other two safe, despite knowing their own health was on the line. The level of care behind that makes Deceit  _ sob. _

Roman joins in on the scenting, the three piled together in an aching near-silence. Logan and Patton don't dare join in on the inviting scenting of the three. It isn't their place and they  _ know it. _ They let the three get acquainted until Logan softly reminds that they didn't want any of them sick and that it actually _ was _ time to come in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, after the middle got rough! My bad, y'all! I kept losing focus. Tell me how I can improve it! Leave reviews! Or stuff you want to see in the story! I love y'alls feedback! It makes me want to write more and more!


	4. Chapter 4

The three had talked for a few moments, calming each other down. It had taken a lot longer than they planned, honestly, but it was worth it, the three now much calmer than they had been earlier. 

It had been Romans' idea to get Virgil into the bath. It would remove the scent that simply wasn't his own, the same scent that came with those who no one wanted to hang around. Roman frowns, though, pouring soap into the water without a comment. His plan goes unsaid, but he knows Virgil sees it, letting out a soft breath of relief, seemingly relax relaxing while he listens to Deceit go on about a random philosopher that Roman had already heard a million different times before but was consuming it like it was the very first time again, fluidly asking questions and Virgil doing the exact same. 

Roman knows better than to add in a bath bomb. The other omega already looked like he was in pain. He was constantly fidgeting, one hand pressing to his lower back, just where his tail became apparent, spine merging with the extra limb that Deceit lacked. Virgil definitely didn't need a bladder or kidney infection to add to it, though Roman wasn't sure which was  _ actually _ caused by a bath bomb. Maybe it was just a UTI? 

He turns to the two, intently watching their conversations. They're both calm as can be, chatting happily about a philosopher that was cocky and a bigger hypocrite than anyone Roman knew, which included himself. He keeps catching looks on both of their faces, something akin to recognition but never acted upon. There's a look in Virgils' eyes, something  _ longing, _ but he withholds it and Roman doesn't want to pry. Not now, at least. He doesn't have the energy. 

He was pale, which wasn't exactly an  _ understatement. _ Virgil was practically as white as a sheet, the gauze on his body blending far too easily with his skin tone as Deceit helps pull the makeshift bandages away, throwing them in the garbage. Roman pretends that he doesn't want to break down for Virgil when he heard the genuine confusion to why Deceit was throwing them away and not cleaning the bandages before reusing them. He pretends it doesn't hurt when he hears Virgils' stuttered frustration while Deceit explains that you're not actually supposed to reuse gauze  _ at all. _

Virgil had fallen silent for a few moments, content to listen to Deceits' tangent. He didn't make a single peep until Roman announced that the water was done. He was almost silent when he heard the announcement, quietly asking, "Would… Would it be okay if you two turned around until I got undressed?" A blush burns color onto his cheeks, flustered with the question. His nails repeat the same action they had kept up with, coping with the constant stream of anxiety. 

Romans' own cheeks flush a bright red, the shorter omega instantly nodding. "Of course, Virgil! While you do that, I'll take your clothes to Parton so he can wash them!" 

"You…  _ don't  _ wash the clothes yourself?" 

"I set the washer on fire the last time I used it," Roman laughs, smiling widely. "Patton usually does the chores around the house, actually. He stress cleans, cleans for fun, stress bakes, bakes for fun-" 

"Dear," Deceit laughs softly, "We get it. Patton relaxes by doing most of the housework. He'll remodel the entire living room if he's either got enough time or he's stressed enough." 

"Wait, you said that while I was busy, you would take the clothes to Patton? But I'll be busy taking my clothes off?" 

"Slip of the tongue," Roman supplies, cheeks dancing with red, his embarrassment clear for both of them. Despite that, both of the men at hand turn around, giving Virgil his requested privacy.

"What do you want me to do with the stuff in my pockets?" 

Deceit relaxes, smiling as he provides, "Put it on the counter. We'll probably put it in your room when we get out." 

The shuffling behind them pause, Virgil doing a double-take as he stutters, "M-My room?" 

Deceit raises a brow. "Of course, your own room. We aren't going to force you to sleep in our room unless you wanted to." 

"I don't want to be a problem." 

"It wouldn't be a problem, I assure you, Virgil." Deceit glance at Roman, his expression saying a million different things. "But, wherever you like to sleep, you can. It's not an issue." 

"I-I'll take the guest room." The  _ I don't want to be in your way _ goes unsaid, but they all hear it. 

There's the gentle tap of things being put on the counter, notably a phone, a pair of earbuds, a singular stylus, a small container of eye drops, and one contact carrier. Neither ask about it, though Virgil does awkwardly hand over his clothes. It's more than  _ just _ awkward from their positions, but neither makes a comment about it. 

There were the gentle splashes of water and genuinely happy but confused, "The water isn't cold?" 

Deceit wants to cry, his lips pursed the instant he hears it. Roman passes him a wary look, one that doesn't hesitate to supply that he's more than willing to let Deceit take the clothes to Patton and Roman watch over Virgil until he gets back. Deceit just shakes his head. 

"I'll be back in a moment with a towel and new clothes for you, Virgil!" With that, he takes his leave. He totally  _ doesn't  _ bawl his eyes out to Patton and Logan the instant he gets the chance, sharing the conversation with them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on the wrong fucking story akshsnns
> 
> Anyways short chapter because I wanted to split these two parts between Romans' view and Deceits' because their placement just didn't make sense. 
> 
> The original draft was 201 words and this is roughly 900. To clarify, I write it on my computer and then rewrite it on my phone. It's great for doubling your word count and catching mistakes and editing and foreshadowing. I use the Grammarly keyboard btw. It's great.
> 
> Leave comments, please, I love them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts out fluffy but gets sad after the first 300 words.l

Deceit gently runs his hands through the water, brows furrowed as he examines the omega currently sitting there, soaking up the heat with a content look on his face. He has the gentlest hint a smile on his lips while he sleepily stares at the bubbles swirling in front of him. 

"Do you wear contacts," Deceit softly asks. He half-heartedly glances at the contact case on the counter, one top purple and the other blue, labeled  _ R _ and  _ L, _ respectively. 

Virgil slowly nods, heaving out a quiet yawn, squeaking with a hand over his mouth. He relaxes the instant the yawn is gone, once again content. "I have heterochromia and bad eyes anyway. They're blue contacts, both of them because my eyes just… change colors and stuff. It's weird." 

Deceit smiles softly. "Personally," he begins, standing slowly and opening the cabinet to pull out his own contact case, "I just wear one on the left, since that eye is yellow." He unscrews the cap, bringing one hand up to pull the contact out with a squeeze of two fingers. It comes out easily and gets put away just as quickly. He dribbles a couple of drops of the eye solution into his left eye, relaxed in front of the other.

"So… You're like me," Virgil asks, eyes wide and already willing sith tears. 

Deceit only smiles, nodding quickly. "It appears I am, doesn't it?" 

He doesn't miss the way Virgil wipes his face with soapy hands before realizing that that actually  _ wasn't a good idea in the first place, ow, fuck. _ He smiles, sitting on the floor and leaning against the side of the tub. He's tired and relaxed, the bathroom warm on the snake beta. It was having the same effect on the feline, who seemed to be calm as could be, though, maybe that was the sleepy state they were in. 

Deceit finally decides to ask, "Would you like me to help you bathe or would you rather do that by yourself?" This was different from Roman, who was  _ always _ up for a bath, loving all the attention and the hands on him. It was like  _ Deceit, _ who always had to be asked first, who still tensed up at certain touches and always seemed to be somewhat on guard even after all these years later. 

Virgil stares at Deceit as if he had asked the most insane question possibly thinkable to man. He raises a worried brow, beyond just  _ surprised  _ at the question. 

"But… We aren't mated?" 

Deceit could see the cogs turning in Virgils' brain. They're not slow. They're quick and panicked. His chest tightens within an  _ instant. _

"That's a… a  _ sexual _ thing?" That makes Virgil panic more, eyes suddenly blown wide. "Was I supposed to-"

Deceit shakes his head. "It's okay, Virgil." 

His chest feels tight and he honestly feels like he's ready to fight  _ everyone. _ Who in the  _ fuck _ had taught Virgil that simply  _ bathing together _ was a  _ sexual thing? _ It was a pack thing, it was a  _ bonding _ thing, it was a  _ scenting  _ thing. It didn't have to be sexual unless someone decided for it to be, initiating something. It  _ never _ implied that you two had to be  _ nailing each other  _ simply to bathe together. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Virgil asks, curling in on himself, tense as can be, the content look erased and replaced, now sporting clear panic. It was unmistakable as he straightens, lips pressed tightly together. The worry plays itself clear, despite the even clearer efforts to hide it. 

"Of course you didn't, Virgil." Deceits' stern reply jerks Virgils' attention away from the former panic that had set in. He wonders who had taught Virgil such a  _ lie. _ How long had Virgil believed this? Why had no one dared to correct the toxic thinking that probably lead to far too many misconceptions and horrid thoughts? How many shows had he watched or books had he read that had made him assume that someone was in a relationship when they really  _ weren't? _ Deceit feels sickly at the consideration of  _ any of that, _ but he blocks it down in favor of assisting the other. 

"You're not in trouble, I swear. I won't hurt you, even if you  _ had _ said something wrong." 

He  _ hates _ that that was what made Virgil seemingly relax. He can feel the yucky tendrils of disgust and anger wrap around his gut. He was  _ fuming _ at the clear abuse Virgil had suffered. Was it from  _ just _ his alpha? Or had his parents been horrid, as well? Did they neglect the omega the way Deceits' brain currently gave hinting suspicions, not teaching him the basics around relationships? Had they not taught him the differences between being friendly and genuinely wanting to be bonded? Had his original pack and family been so  _ emotionally stunted (Because, yes, Deceits' brain muses to himself, that's the  _ ** _nicest _ ** _ possible way he can put it at the moment) _ that they hadn't given the omega the opportunity to at  _ least _ know the ground bare  _ basics  _ of an omega? How bad could they have been that this appalling thought was beyond just  _ planted _ in Virgils' head? It was an entire tree in a forest of abuse, the seed planted and grown now. Deceit intended on whacking that tree down with an ax the absolute  _ instant  _ he got the chance to. His anger boils but he pushes it to the back of his mind. 

_ Now is not the time, _ he silently reminds himself. 

"Bathing each other is a passive way of scenting. It's not…" He trails off, frowning. How in the fuck could he phrase this properly? Patton and Roman were the ones that were good with words, not  _ him! _

"It doesn't have to be sexual in the least unless you would like it to be. There doesn't have to be any sexual intimacy. We don't have to be bonded or even in the same pack." 

He tries to think up the words his three lovers had used on him when he first became a part of their worlds officially. What had Logan said? What had been the technical terms? 

"As long as you are accepted by the group and alright with scenting, then its nothing more than a friendly, platonic gesture." 

Those were near his words, though the sentence had been twice as long and the words far bigger. Deceit, however, didn't want to repeat it completely, not after Roman had to explain it to him four different times after to completely understand. 

Virgil seems to sharpen. It's not in surprise of fear or even  _ worry. _ It's from a realization, one that hits the man like a goddamn  _ truck. _ He doesn't fully understand, no, he asks Deceit to repeat it two more times, brows furrowed as Deceit repeats the words, slower and adding in soft footnotes and comments. He  _ knew _ that it would take more than just a bit to drill this into the omegas' head. Even if that tree were smaller, there was still a trunk and thick stump left that would need to be removed so it could never grow again. For now, he had removed enough branches to make a dent in that giant bush. 

He does accept, though. He accepts without much of a comment other than,  _ Please don't touch my chest? _ Deceit agrees without any sort of hesitancy. He knew the terms. He knew that Virgil was fine with it. That doesn't stop him from calling out soft comments like  _ I'm going to touch here, alright? _ And  _ If this is uncomfortable or you dislike it at all, you can tell me and I'll stop within an instant, no repercussions.  _ He even includes  _ I won't be mad in the least if you say no to touches or ask me to stop at all, whether it be all together or just general spots. _ Virgil only has him pull away when he touches his lower back and sides, flinching away and taking more than just a few minutes to breathe. Deceit coaxes him through the panic, calm as can be, ground the man. 

Roman comes in at some point, doing the same exact thing as Deceit. By the end of the bath, the water is murky, stained with makeup and grime. There were a few newly cleaned wounds that stained the water near noticeable orange when compared to the makeup, all coming out uneven. Every single bruise is on display, his body there. The two try to ignore the scars and other markings along his entire body, both frowning and keeping their worry to their selves. They know Virgil catches them at at least one point, but he doesn't make a comment, completely silent himself. He was just barely holding onto consciousness, a groggy ache seeping into his bones as he was heated to the core, thankful for their gentle touch and constant reassurances. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Og draft: *is only 237 words*  
Me, pulling up with almost 1,500 words: Ahaha okay


	6. Chapter 6

Roman seems to be frowning at Virgil, though the taller omega can't hint it as an angry sort of look. In fact, he looks like he's sporting pity instead. A scent that Virgil can't recognize comes out, one that's accompanied with a harshly heaved out and rather breathy,  _ "Virgil…" _ It's not the same soft of  _ huffy  _ or  _ breathy _ sound that Virgils' used to hearing. It's not similar to a moan or even having any sort of list to it at all. It's something more akin to a whimper than a moan, which doesn't settle well on the anxiety-clad omega. The word trails off as the bed dips, notably being Romans' form but Virgil doesn't have visible confirmation, having closed his eyes to avoid the tears that greet his eyes the instant he had the chance to. 

Virgil doesn't want to keep looking at Roman, either. The expression would be burned into his memory, always there to encase Roman and his damn perfection that strikes at Virgils' mind useless time and time again. Memories were faulty, always had been, but this would be here for a while, would burn and ache at Virgil years in the future when he sat alone at odd hours of the night, sobbing over  _ this. _

It was loud pity and full of sadness. What had Virgil done so wrong to erect  _ that  _ reaction? What had he done? 

He moves his tail over his body, covering himself quickly. He's thankful that the fluffy appendage is long and big enough to cover his body without issue. It had come in handy a time or two.

What had Virgil done so _wrong?_ Why was Roman looking at him like _that?_ _He_ always liked the display of submission. _He _would also take in the look with a smirk and quip to Virgil, asserting his dominance how he pleased. _He_ always wanted to be on top, standing over Virgil with a look that disputed any sort of fight. Fighting meant there would be a punishment and Virgil always _hated _punishments. They were harsh and made his body ache for days. 

Virgil had never  _ not  _ done the little display afterward. He knew the damages that would be inflicted on his skin after if he didn't. 

_ He  _ would get angry.  _ He  _ would throw things and scrape up Virgils' skin until Virgil would pass out from the ache (or occasionally blood loss, but he never wanted to admit that to himself). He would wake up and bandage his wounds without comment, going about his day as if nothing had happened.  _ That's how things just are, _ Virgil had always reasoned with himself, not knowing any other form of treatment. 

Virgil squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can possibly make them, the darkness in his eyes flashing with colors he could only compare to the acid trip he had once in his teen years that had been provoked by his brother, who wanted nothing more than to spoil the omega. His skin tenses and he knows his tail thickens, a silent way to make himself look like a bigger target. He knew better than to let out a defensive hiss. Defensive hisses meant an even harsher punishment, so he stomps down that instinct before it can even form. He had done it a million times before so it was like nothing more than slapping away the thoughts to run. 

There's no yelling. There's no  _ hit,  _ either. It's just silence and a soft sniffle that follows, which only makes Virgils' fear  _ grow. _ It was a paused reaction, one that was going to be delayed. His stomach aches with the telling nerves. He hides the tears in his eyes that brew unhappily. Delayed anger meant that it would stack up. It meant that he would vent it at some other point. Virgil would probably wake up early,  _ Him  _ deep inside the omega, beyond angry when he woke up sobbing and in pain from the unexpected movements and harsh force.  _ He  _ left no room for sobbing. Sobbing meant it would become three times worse or another delayed punishment. It would stack up for weeks at a time until  _ he _ found his fill and no longer wanted to toy around with the omega.  _ He _ would leave for days at a time, returning with the strong scent of another him, often being the scent of an omega in heat. Virgil was never allowed to comment. He knew the unfortunate effects commenting brought. 

Virgil represses the memory with a near-silent sniffle, curling in on himself. He forces his eyes open, though, ignoring the way his skin crawls at the thoughts that fill his mind. He silently prays that Roman would never hurt him, but he knows its wishful thinking. Despite that, his own expression of fears crumbles into a million pieces at seeing Romans' reaction. 

Roman has his own set of tears running down his face. They fall thick, untamed as he brings his hands up, consistently attempting to wipe the salty liquid away. Virgils' stomach turns sour at the display, his yelps at why Roman wasn't angry with them going forgotten as he flinched away, inhaling sharply.  _ That  _ was far from the face he wanted, a million miles away from what he had expected, too. 

His stomach won't settle, absolutely  _ raging  _ at the other emotional omega in front of him. His throat feels too tight and his cheat feels as if an entire house had been sat atop it. An unhappy click came from somewhere deep within his throat, a sound he doesn't remember ever having but knew that it fit here  _ perfectly. _ He wants to reach out and comfort the other, to protect him from whatever hurt him, but Virgil knew  _ he _ was what had hurt the shorter omega, what had plagued his mind with whatever it did now. 

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, not actually sure of what he had done. He didn't know, but he certainly wasn't going to  _ not  _ apologize for his misbehavior. "I-I-I don't know what I did-id, but I'm s-s-so-o sorry, Roman!"

His hands shake, movements miscalculated and messy as he did his best to comfort the other, but whatever he must have done was even  _ worse  _ because Roman only seemed to tense at that, sucking in a harsh, tense breath that shakes his entire body. Virgil has to resist every single sensation in his body to keep from dry heaving right then and there. His anxiety wasn't letting it be known if he were to use fight or flight. Maybe, he thinks, there's a third option that no one ever taught. 

Roman forces a smile, shaking his head. He inhales once again, shaking his head with much more force than the beginning, heaving out, "You're okay!" 

Virgil freezes at the words.  _ No? _ His mind asks himself. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Virgil, you're alright!" He shakes his heads in front of himself, head ducked as tears splattered on the carpet beneath him. 

Virgil had carpet in the room he was staying in?  _ Why?  _ Why did they trust him so much already? No alpha was supposed to trust him without- 

"I'm sorry, Virgil! You truly are okay! I just… Shit, I'm  _ so  _ sorry." His voice trails off, forgotten by taunting sniffles and forcibly composed looks that Virgil just  _ knew _ weren't real, weren't  _ right. _ He runs a hand over his face, red-painted nails going through his hair the instant he wipes his tears away for the seventeenth time. "Virgil, you don't have to… do  _ that _ here." He vaguely points at the other omegas' body and display, prying a whimper from him. "There's no  _ "earn your keep through sex" _ sort of thing around here, I assure you." 

The red nails seem to be nothing more than a bitter placement now, starting down Virgil as he glares at his own chipped nails. He wasn't held together, wasn't as beautifully presented as the other. His freckles didn't make him look like a sun-kissed God. His skin was pale and his freckles looked more like a gray than any sort of soft brown like Romans' did. Of course  _ Roman _ didn't have to earn his keep, he was absolutely  _ stunning, _ with his strong frame and clear muscles that bulged from beneath even the loose shirt he had on now. He was so  _ beautiful. _ Who  _ wouldn't  _ want Roman, whether it be to love him or to keep him as a trophy omega? 

Virgil was once a trophy omega in his youth, but he kept that to himself. That was his  _ youth, _ despite him still being a young adult now. 

Virgil doesn't fucking  _ understand. _ His mind halts with confusion, brows knit at he stares at the other omega. Before he can think of a good thing to say, his mind goes to, "But… what  _ else _ are we supposed to do? Do… Do you not like being on top?... How will we know who's on top?" 

Romans' eyes bulge with a mix of worry and anger, his scent suddenly loud and overbearing on the sensitive omega. Roman whips his head from side to side in an appalled head shake. "Of course I don't! Omegas aren't physically made to be on top! Our biology is to We aren't- That's  _ wrong!"  _

Virgil gapes at the canine, confused as can be. So he  _ wasn't  _ supposed to be on top? Was there not supposed to be some sort of nightly ritual to declare who? How in the  _ world  _ would they know who would "run the house"? 

Virgil didn't know anyone outside of his small family. He had no outside reference, just what literature he'd been provided in his youth and what came from his two brothers and parents, all of which were alphas. He had no idea how anything was supposed to go  _ apparently. _ It makes confusion collect in the bottom of his stomach, weighing it down. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Did no one ever teach you about basic mating?"

If anyone else had said it under any  _ other _ circumstances, the question would have been seen as one of the rudest things he could have been asked. Despite that, Virgil doesn't feel a single bit of ill intent behind the words. It's a genuine question. He wasn't being sarcastic. He wasn't holding it against the omega currently somewhat presented for the other. The feline omega examines Roman, his own breathing rather shaky as he falters. 

Romans' face had a million different emotions on it. His eyes were pressed flat to his scalp, almost as if he had been slapped. Maybe this had been the mental version of it? The tears were still falling rather thickly. He wants to fix it, to preserve the smile he had earlier, to the smile in the pictures he had seen in the living room on the mantle when he had passed, even if he had only seen it for a split second. He wants to impress Roman in a way Virgil can't think he's ever felt before. His mind vaguely wonders,  _ what the actually Fuck?  _

"Be submissive," he starts without hesitation, ever trained on his nails, "or don't do anything at all. Omegas are to offer themselves to anyone of a higher rank and be dominated. Anything else won't be tolerated and will come with severe punishment." 

He bites his lip, trying to remember everything off the top of his head. Maybe he could get the basic of basics? 

"Keep your mouth shut unless you're using it. Don't make a noise, either. Sex is for ranking and giving pleasure but not receiving." 

Were those the basics? No, no, there were more,  _ a lot more. _

"Those on top are proving themselves. Don't cry, it won't be tolerated, either, and come with severe punishments. Take punishments without a single word unless you want it to be twice as bad." 

That's not even half of the basics. It's nowhere  _ near _ any of the rules Virgil had learned in his youth. It wasn't the best he could give. There were a million other rules he had been told, a million other rules that had been enforced without proper warning, a million other rules he had learned instead of been told. His mind was drawing billions of blanks. He couldn't recite the rules he had grown up on. He couldn't recite the rules his mama made him say to her every morning. He couldn't recite the rules his daddy made him say every night. He couldn't recite the rules  _ He  _ made him say every meal. 

"And if you knot, you are theirs and theirs alone, no take backsies." 

He flinches.  _ Take backsies. _ He was certainly going to get a slap for the childish phrase. 

Instead, Roman wails out an incredibly upset,  _ "No!" _ It makes Virgil flinch. "That's all  _ wrong, _ Virgil! You're not supposed to cry during sex! You're supposed to enjoy it! It's supposed to be pleasurable for  _ everyone, _ not just those on top! It's not some sort of grading system, either! You shouldn't have to stay quiet! You surely shouldn't be crying because of it, either!" 

Virgil let Roman down. He didn't  _ impress him _ as he has intended. In fact, he only  _ upset  _ the canine omega. The sharp scent paired with a million different emotions that all mean  _ negative  _ makes his stomach roll again, throat burning with acid. 

Roman smelled great, honestly. His scent was something akin to freshly churned soil, and some sort of  _ metal, _ though Virgil has no idea which metal or why it was even there, not exactly blending with the earthy tones, but who was he to say? He didn't even know what he smelled like. Really, if weren't for the piercing distress, Virgil would say he was a comforting sort of scent, one that made him want to lay down and relax, reminding him of the forgotten scent of old wood and coffee beans that he couldn't place any more. Virgil thinks that maybe he must smell like frustration because,  _ Hell, _ that's mostly all he's feeling right now outside of the hurt and need to excessively apologize. 

His mind suddenly fritzes in a harsh realization. 

Roman has a  _ scent? _ A  _ strong _ scent? 

He smells thickly of omega, which makes Virgil pause even more. Had no one ever told him to cover his scent, suppress it until it was nothing more than a faint reminder only released for the purpose of breeding and heats? Why wasn't he covering it up? Was he about to go into his heat? That would mean Virgil would have to leave the instant he had the chance. No unmated were allowed during heats. Omegas got aggressive with those that weren't part of their packs, with those that weren't claimed as their own. 

Would Patton, Logan, and Deceit be  _ mad _ at Roman? Was Roman allowed to have a scent at home but not in any sort of public setting? Virgil was never allowed to go out for much more than shopping or occasionally attending with whatever  _ He  _ wanted. Tonight had just been wanting Virgil out of the house because, for  _ some _ reason,  _ He _ insisted on shopping with the omega today, wanting something specific but not wanting to tell the omega. Virgil had never seen many others, always going out at the earliest of hours so he only ran into near scentless cashiers just doing their jobs. 

A million different questions seemed to brew inside of the omega, unable to actually focus on the words Roman was saying. He only vaguely knew that Roman was ranting about sex, about how it wasn't exactly the sort of  _ exchange  _ that Virgil thought it was. Honestly, the omega was rather confused to it, but  _ holy shit, Roman has a scent? Are they mad?  _ The words come in one ear and out the other, not actually being  _ listened  _ to. They couldn't register, couldn't sit in his mind as he zones out. Maybe he's disassociating? He's not sure, it's just a word he vaguely heard in his youth. It didn't mean a thing to him, but maybe it did? He isn't sure, he doesn't  _ know. _

He doesn't even register the others come in, either, his mouth partially open and brows knit, starting at Roman, focused on the glossy brown eyes and flamboyant hair that bounces with every movement, almost as if each strand had its own personality, chiming in with Romans' movements, syncing up with precision. 

He doesn't know what's happening, unconsciously picking at his nails, sharp ends digging at the paint that was nothing more than gentle flecks of color, falling away with scratches. His skin feels scratchy, but not the sort of scratchy it always felt around  _ Him. _ It wasn't the urge to scratch his skin until it bleed, until his nails were dull and skin needed to be bandaged and cleaned because  _ you're going to get infected, stupid ass. Do you know how much a doctors' bill would cost? You don't fucking work, you can't afford to fuck this up for us. _ It didn't make him want to scratch his throat and general body. It was the sort of itch that was just meant to give him something to do with his hands. He picked at his cuticles, unhappy as can be. 

His attention moves from Roman to his hands, not looking at the group as he forces himself to just  _ breathe, _ unsure of when his breathing had even gotten out of hand, quickening significantly. His tail coils tighter around himself, the young omega thankful for the large coverage it gives him. It's not that he won't present to them, it's just that, well, after  _ Romans' _ reaction, he doesn't think that the others would dare respond any kinder. He doesn't want to see their faces fall like he had Romans'. He doesn't want to have the same exact faces that he had tattooed in his mind of Roman, but this time with each of their features, whether it be appalled, depressed or  _ whatever  _ they reacted with.

Patton gently sits down, sure to tell Virgil what he's doing before he does it, warning him over his movements and actions. It takes far more than just a few moments for Virgil to even register that the alpha is  _ there, _ the others having gone out of the room, leaving the two alone in the silence. It took him twice as long to force his eyes up, to look at the canine with a comforting warmth about him that Virgil didn't know how to place, not where to even place when be did. He forces himself to take in the other, to register what's going on. He forces himself to push away that foggy feeling away, forces it down with a sharp, eventual nod, head ducked. 

He starts, "I don't know what you were saying, I'm sorry." 

Patton stops what he was saying, giving a slow, gentle nod. "Well, I was really just talking until you decided to stop me." He gives a cheeky smile, peering at the omega over his glasses. "That's okay if you weren't listening, Virgil. The gist of it was that you should get dressed if you'd like to. You don't have to, but you can. We aren't against nudity if it makes you comfortable. Your clothes are in the washer right now, so I'm sorry that your binder and jacket won't be done until then. You can sleep if you'd like, but we're having dinner downstairs if you're hungry." 

Virgil ignores the empty feeling in his stomach, glancing at his wrists. He only vaguely remembers Roman bandaging them in the bathroom while he dried off. Instead, he mumbles the gentle reply, "I think I'll just sleep." At Pattons' sympathetic gaze, he provides a quick explanation, even if he knows that it wasn't needed, "I already made both a Roman and Deceit upset. I don't want to make them any more upset than they already are." The wording doesn't feel right, but he can't find anything better. It fits, though, because he doesn't want them upset. 

Patton shakes his head, slow and patient at he smiles politely at the omega currently curling in on himself. How in the  _ Hell _ can he have so much patience with him, Virgil wonders as Patton takes up a soft reply, "It's really not your fault, Virgil, I assure you. They just both have some messy past experience with… Well, with abuse. It's just bringing up some nasty memories for them, Kiddo." 

Virgil physically reels, taken aback by the words as he instantly repeats, "Abuse?" 

_ Abuse? Virgil wasn't abused… was he? _

"I haven't been abused?" 

Patton seems to purses his lips, a gentle  _ mmm _ leaving him, high pitched and cut off. His brows are furrowed gently, not exactly replying, cutting himself off as if he didn't want to point anything out. 

_ Was he?  _

"I was, wasn't I?" 

Glasses eyes look at the gentle blues, focused on Patton and Patton alone, wanting a reply as tears burn. His contacts we're surely not having fun with this, burning unhappily as he examines Patton, trying to find  _ any _ evidence at all that says otherwise,  _ desperate  _ for anything that would hint at the word  _ no. _ But Patton was just so  _ guarded, _ his entire body language leaking out the reply that he simply  _ was. _

He slowly stands, voice low and lulling Virgil on as he softly replies, "You shouldn't be scared of your mate." 

Virgil frowns, huffing softly. He could feel more tears rolling down his cheeks, coating them in the warm liquid. "We weren't… I was… it wasn't…" He couldn't find a reply to it. 

He stops himself, glancing at his nails as Patton hovers in the door, wanting to help but knowing it wasn't his place, knowing that Virgil wanted to be alone. His ears press flat to his scalp, eyes watery and aching.

"Patton… That…  _ That  _ was abuse? All of it?..." 

He leaves out the soft bit that makes his throat burn, the aching  _ I thought that was a love?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao y'all ever not realize you were in a severely abusive situation until someone pointed it out? 
> 
> 1040 words turned into 3,653 words. I'm sorry for the long break, it's been a bad few days. My rooms ceiling fell in so I've been excluded to the living room. We've got to clean the entire house or we'll be kicked out, too, so that's unfortunate.
> 
> September 1 edit: my stupid ass uploaded a one-shot on here on accident skskkskajskdha it took me fucking hours to realize, I'm so sorry I'm stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Please join my Discord server!  
https://discord.gg/eGkwayy


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